End of All Hope
by Lady Feylene
Summary: In the aftermath of tragedy, the forces of good rally together for a final stand. Pre-slash. Character deaths.
1. Default Chapter

  
  
  
  
  
  


Disclaimer: None of the characters contained herein belong to me. No money is being made off of this.

  
  


Warning: Spoilers, Character death, angst, and slash in the later chapters.

  
  


Dedication: This is for Jenn, for doing the dishes while I jotted it down on a scrap of paper. 

  
  


Author's Note: Yeah...this one's weird. This chapter is omniscient third POV, and it's going to be the only chapter from that view point. Next chapters will ave clear cut character POVs. I was listening to one of my Nightwish CDs, and I was hit with inspiration. I carried it around in my head for a bit, then scribbled some ideas down at work. Then I finally got it down on the computer.

  
  


It takes place in what would be Harry's sixth year. Events that have come to pass are somewhat explained in the text.

  
  
  
  


End of All Hope

  
  
  
  


"This is the end."

  
  


The words had a finality, a coldness to them. They were the sound of a crypt, dusty and bitter and without hope or life. 

  
  


"Severus, you can't say that."

  
  


The council chamber was nearly silent. All eyes turned, peeling slowly away from Severus Snape to rest on Remus Lupin. 

  
  


"It's not the end." Remus shook his head, eyes wide with fear and disbelief. No one else refuted the Potion Masters statement. It was the end. They had stood, they had fought, and they had failed. "I know things look horrid now..."

  
  


"Lupin, we must face the truth!" Severus' eyes were cold and dead, simply black holes that stared out on the world. "What hope do we have now? We have been beaten back to a handful!"

  
  


"There are more then just us." Remus said, gathering his strength. "In the ministry, in the outlying regions, in Voldemort's ranks..."

  
  


"Remmie, just drop it!" 

  
  


Sirius had been silent. No one blamed him. He looked as though he had been dragged through hell and back, tied to the devil's horse. "I'm not saying give up, I'm just saying we need to...to regroup. Or something."

  
  


"There is no regrouping!" Severus slammed his hand down on the table. "He has won! We are hardly a force to stand against his forces..."

  
  


"As said by a true traitor." The words were said in a deadly hiss, gravelly anger tinging them slightly. Sirius' blank eyes fixed on Severus', boring into him. "How do we know we can trust you?"

  
  


"Sirius, now isn't the time." Remus, the peacekeeper, determined to keep tempers cool. "It's too soon for this."

  
  


"I am inclined to agree." Mcgonagall, sane voice among the masses. "It is too soon."

  
  


"Then you are all fools!" Severus made as though to spit, and drew himself up to his full height. "*This* is why we stand no chance. We aren't warriors! Where are out tacticians? Our strategists? Our generals, our foot soldiers?" He brought his fist down again, hard, emphasizing his point. "We are not an army!" He enunciated each word, voice thick with disgust. "They are. Wars are not won on wishes and good intentions. Wars are won with blood and sacrifice. We have suffered a loss. This is a war. I have no grand delusions that all of us who sit here now are going to come out alive. It will be a miracle if half of us do! We lost one more of our number. It is...unfortunate, but it is not reason to give up all hope."

  
  


"You're the one who said this is the end, Severus." Remus' voice was soft and hushed. 

  
  


"Not because of the boy's death." Severus shook his head. "It is the end because we rested our hopes on his shoulders alone. Look at us! You sit, shattered, because of the death of one. If you truly wish to win this, then find your strengths. We must organize. We must call all whom we know are loyal. We must elect generals, leaders, we must develop some sort of an order."

  
  


"You're speaking of leaders, Severus." Mcgonagall again. "Dumbledore had designated his wish that this be a council..."

  
  


"And Dumbledore is gone!" Livid. The potions master had never been so emotional. "This is war! Why can you people not see this?"

  
  


"We do see, Severus." Always the quiet one, Remus. "That's why we're here."

  
  


"Then we must do what we have to." Severus sat, features set in stone. "You all have a choice. You may stay, and do as I have instructed-or you may go. And die."

  
  


"Oh?" Standing, eyes narrowed, Sirius was an intimidating form. "And who are you, to tell us what to do? Who are you to point fingers, and name names? If we do stay, who will be our leader, as you're so eager to place us under someone's thumb? Who would you pick, to lead us?"

  
  


"Myself." 

  
  


"No." He would not stand for it. "You'll lead us to our deaths!"

  
  


"No he won't."

  
  


"Stay out of this, Remus." Still sitting, calm and composed. He had found his footing. "If you won't have it, then leave. I will not stop you. Remus, go and collect me young Mr. Weasley. He has shown quite a talent for tactics. Bring me also Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Granger, and Ms. Chang."

  
  


"Severus..." Slightly hesitant. "What can Neville do...?"

  
  


"You would be surprised. Black, I see you've sat down again. Good."

  
  


"I just want to watch you fail, Snape, that's all."

  
  


"Fine. But be quiet as you do so. Remus...?"

  
  


The werewolf left, and Severus turned his attention to those who remained. Some did leave, believing that there was no hope. 

  
  


"Black, you are adept at battle magics...You will be needed to train whomever joins with us."

  
  


"Train? Do you plan to fill our ranks with children?"

  
  


"If I must. Ah, Lupin..." 

  
  


The door opened. Remus had returned, requested students trailing behind. 

  
  


"I thank you for coming." Standing again, Severus surveyed the new members. Weasley, red eyed and weary. Longbottom, small and frightened. Granger, apprehensive and curious. Chang, defiant and wary. "As you are aware, we are in the midst of a war. You may have noticed a drop in our attendance..." A pause, waiting for a response. "Your services are needed. Consider yourselves drafted. Chang, you have a record of hand to hand combat, yes?"

  
  


"Yes..." Not certain what her role was, why she was here.

  
  


"Good. Magic leaves tell tale signs, signatures. If we wish discretion, there will be times when force will be needed. Ms. Granger, I doubt I need explain where your talents lie?"

  
  


"No." She shook her head. "I...I assume it's my cleverness."

  
  


"You assume right. But never *assume* again. Your skill lies in research, facts. We will need that. Longbottom...you are brighter then you appear. You've no common sense or book skills, but you've an innate sense of preservation. And you are quite unassuming. Skills we can utilize. And...Mr. Weasley." Severus paused, eyes raking over the red-head's disheveled form.

  
  


"Get on with it Snape. I don't have time for this."

  
  


"You most certainly do. All the forces in the world can do nothing if they have no battle plan." 

  
  


"I'm not interested." Ron shook his head, arms folded. "Professor Lupin told me what happened...I'm not going to serve under you."

  
  


"Do not be a fool boy. If you want your revenge, you damn well will serve under me. And you will do as you are told. You are being offered a prestigious position. Now sit down, all of you."

  
  


Silently, slowly, they slipped into their proscribed roles. 

  
  


"We are outnumbered, at the moment, by at least five to one. That we know of. Voldemort most likely has forces that we cannot even comprehend. He has mastered the dark arts. We cannot sit here waiting to be picked off. We must act."

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	2. Severus and Remus

  
  
  
  
  
  


Warning: There's some slash in this chapter! There's going to be much, much more. I'm writing this character by character. Each chapter deals with different characters, unless everyone's in the same place for some reason.

  
  


Dedication: For Bob, for supporting me and standing up for me today.

  
  


Author's Note: Okay....so we keep the omniscient third. I can't seem to break it. I tried without it, and I just didn't like the flow of it at all. It seemed choppy, and just not right. So we go back to the original POV. And anything that was foggy is cleared up here.

  
  


End of All Hope

  
  


Severus and Remus

  
  
  
  


"They aren't going to listen to you." Remus had followed, silently, after Severus. The council meeting had affected him deeply. Now he stood, door closed behind him, trying to make Severus see reason.

  
  


"They have no choice." Back turned, voice leaving no room for argument. The scents of herbs and darkness filled the room.

  
  


"They don't see it that way." Calm, persistent. He would not let this go.

  
  


"Then I will make them." Turning, black eyes dark and alert. "We have come too far to give up now."

  
  


"No one gave up. You were the one..."

  
  


"Were you at all listening to me?" His voice rose in anger, thin lips an irritated line. "Have you looked at Black lately? He has given up, he simply won't admit it yet."

  
  


"He's in mourning." Desperately attempting to remain calm, unaffected. "We all are. It's unavoidable."

  
  


"There is no time to mourn." Words not spoken in anger, but almost sadly. "Do not think I do not regret the boy's death, I do. But wasting time mourning him...we must strike. We cannot afford to lose time now."

  
  


"Severus..." 

  
  


"Do you remember, the first war?" The potions master leaned back against his desk, now calm and placid, as though discussing weather. "I do. I fought on both sides, and I can assure you...had their side suffered a loss such as this, he would allow no break in his movements. And if our spies are to be believed, they are planning to deal us a grievous blow."

  
  


"We have already been dealt one!" Voice starting to rise. 

  
  


"Why can none of you see this? You are looking at this personally, not tactically. We lost one. That is hardly a grievous loss. And Voldemort does not even know the boy is dead...at least if we are to believe our spies. We must use this to our advantage."

  
  


"But harry was..."

  
  


"A boy!" Eyes flashed, anger running high. "An extremely lucky boy, but that is all!"

  
  


"You're right." Defeated. Remus slumped into a chair, body collapsing as though all his strength were gone. "You're right. And I think the reason we're all against you, is because we know it."

  
  


"It is human nature." He sat as well, content now. 

  
  


"Is that why I'm the first to see the light?" A gentle insult, one met with a small scoff.

  
  


"Perhaps. I've no idea how you canines see the world. Save that you, personally, are an incessant optimist."

  
  


"That, too, is human nature." A soft smile. "Severus...do you really think we can win this?"

  
  


"If all goes according to plan, yes." He nodded, eyes staring somewhere beyond Remus. 

  
  


"I hope it does." His voice took a different tone, lighter, soothing. "You were very impressive."

  
  


"Thank you." Severus steepled his hands, eyes returning to focus on Remus. 

  
  


"You commented that you doubted all of us are going to make it out alive." It was a simple fact, stated with no fear.

  
  


"We aren't. Even if we win, there is no way we will all survive." A shrug.

  
  


"What are my chances?" Accompanied by almost a small smile. "By your calculations?"

  
  


"Your chances?" Eyebrows shot up, taken aback by the question. "I've no idea. Considering your nature, however, I would not be surprised if you offered yourself up as sacrifice."

  
  


"Oh?"

  
  


"You've been dying for your chance to play martyr for as long as I can remember, Lupin."

  
  


"If I die, I'd at least like it to be for a good reason." Slim hands smoothed out the wrinkles in his robe, not nervous, the opposite of in fact.

  
  


"We all die eventually." Severus shrugged. "I am not even certain of my own hances."

  
  


"You'll survive." There was a warmth in his voice. "I know you will."

  
  


"Mmmm. Your faith in me is astounding."

  
  


"Since you're so certain you're going to die, what do you plan to do?"

  
  


"About what?" Severus cocked his head, regarding Remus intently.

  
  


"In general. Aren't you going to make your life worthwhile? Seize whatever opportunities present themselves? I know I am..." His voice was eager, animated.

  
  


"You may as well simple bend over and present yourself Lupin, for all the subtlety you're displaying." 

  
  


"Oh?" Heat rose in his cheeks, and he looked to the floor in shame. "Was I that obvious?"

  
  


"Yes." Slight amusement. 

  
  


"Well? I'm offering myself, if you'd like me." 

  
  


"How romantic."

  
  


"You were never one for romantics, Severus."

  
  


"Quite true." The potions master sighed, black eyes regarding the werewolf. The wheels of his mind were turning, and it seemed as though he were appraising the other man. 

  
  


"I'm not asking you to love me, Severus." But the odd note in his voice betrayed him. He was not asking, but he was hoping. 

  
  


"And I am not saying that I will." It was careful ground on which the tread now. "But I will not turn you out of my bed, if that is the place you so desire."

  
  


"I've already made it known that I'd like you as a lover." The words were chosen carefully, neutrally. 

  
  


"Then it is agreed." Severus nodded. "But do keep in mind, Lupin, that your status as my lover makes no difference when it comes to battle."

  
  


"I know." He nodded, understanding in full. How could one be selfish, in the face of such odds? He could not ask for anything less, and wouldn't. "I just want to find what joy I can, where I can."

  
  


"And you take joy in me?" Another scoff. "I believe you are quite daft."

  
  


"So be it." Remus shrugged. "I'll be waiting for you, tonight." He lowered his lids, amber eyes staring hungrily at the potions master.

  
  


"Why wait for tonight?"

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  



	3. Ron and Hermione

  
  
  
  
  
  


Warning: Some mild slash hints

  
  


Dedication: For Jenn, for recommending that good tattoo place. 

  
  


Author's Note: This chapter is a bit short. It's sad though, and there will be no doubts left about what has happened in the recent past. 

  
  
  
  


End of All Hope

Ron and Hermione

  
  


The hall was silent, save for the staccato sound of heels on stone. Both walked, side by side, staring strait ahead. It was as though they were afraid to speak.

  
  


"What..." Voice hesitant, afraid. Hermione turned to Ron, struggling for her words. "What's going on? Do you think?"

  
  


"They're scared." A shrug, hands shoved in pockets, eyes staring strait ahead, burning brilliantly. "Do you blame them?"

  
  


"Do you think...is it because Harry...?"

  
  


"Leave him out of this!" Words snapped out violently. Ron shoved ahead, long legs taking him further and further away from the woman who wished only to help him.

"Ron..." A hand reached out for him, which he shook off, angrily. 

  
  


"Leave it, Mione." 

  
  


"Ron, I know it hurts, but you have to..."

  
  


"I have to what?" Turning, eyes on fire.

  
  


"You have to just move on!" The words shouted, echoing in the empty hallway. They rang off of stone and glass, and fell, breaking into a thousand pieces. Silence followed, cold, angry. Burning eyes turned to two chips of blue ice. Brown eyes widened, realization setting in. A line had been crossed, and words that had been spoken could not be taken back.

  
  


"Excuse me." Words as cold as his eyes. He turned away from her, shoulders set. She stood, looking after him, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she had made a grievous error, but did not know how to fix it. He had closed the door already, shutting her out. 

  
  


He continued walking, through deadened corridors where once he had found such joy. Now they held nothing but an empty longing, an indescribable pain. He had never known pain, not truly, before this. His world had died, gone out with the light in a pair of emerald green eyes. And she could never understand. She had never seen, never knew.

  
  


"She was so damn blind..." The door was just another enemy. He kicked it, taking some pleasure in the sound of his foot hitting solid wood. "Of course this is because of him..."

  
  


What had happened? What had gone so wrong? Where had they failed? He couldn't help but take some blame himself. There should have been something that could have been done. But it was only heatsickness that caused those thoughts.

  
  


//They want tactics...fine. I can give them tactics.// He would not deny his skill on the field. But they would listen to him, despite his youth and lack of experience. He had stormed his way to the library, once a hated place, now a haven. There were books on strategy here, books that would hone his skill. And printed words would help take his mind off recent tragedy. 

  
  


Opening the first book, he forced his eyes to scan the words. They swam and dipped on the pages, eluding him. It seemed his troubled mind would not allow him to turn to any tasks. He closed his eyes, longing for blissful darkness. Why couldn't he find it anymore? 

  
  


//You know damn well why.// But his mind would not acknowledge what his heart already knew. That he had found love-and lost it-at the tender age of fifteen. Unrequited love, most certainly, but what did that matter? 

  
  


Pain. He looked inside himself and pain was all that he found. His heart was dead inside of him. At first his mind had been a whirlwind, pure chaos. Now it was still and vacant. He often wondered if he looked as worn as he felt. He had done away with mirrors. He hated the way his eyes look, now. Empty and dead.

  
  


//It isn't fair.// But what, exactly it was that wasn't fair, he couldn't say. Nothing, anymore. He was tired of it all. Why should he suffer so? Why couldn't he just sink into that darkness he so longed for?

  
  


//Because you're not a coward Ron, that's why.// He was stern with himself. He raised his lids, and light flowed into his eyes again. Tactics. He needed to study tactics. He would heal, with time. And he *would* find the revenge he so desired. Regardless of what it took.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	4. Meanwhile

  
  


Warning: Nothing too bad in here....just some hints of bad stuff to come.

  
  


Dedication: This one's for the wonderful people at Stop and Shop...whoever's idea it was to sell Harry Potter actions figures there, I will love you forever. 

  
  


Author's Note: Not that long, but it's not supposed to be. It's just a very brief little glance over at the other side.

  
  
  
  


End of All Hope

  
  


Meanwhile....

  
  


Darkness breeds in darkness. There are some acts that must only be done in darkness. Either they demand darkness, or their very doing is of an atrocity that can never face the light of day. And in darkness there is a power. It is tricky, deceptive, awesome and ensnaring. The power controls the practitioner, not the other way round. Yet are still those who wish to harness this power...

  
  


It was a black fortress, hidden deep in mountain and caves. It rang eerily of death and torment, longing and despair. Stone is unfeeling and cold, harsh. It spoke of heinous deeds and black plots. This was the realm of the Dark Lord. This place was the root and birth of all evil. 

  
  


"Have you done as I asked?" A voice that needed no amplification. In fact, the very softness of it instilled fear in the hearts of all who had heard it before.

  
  


"Yes, my lord." Trembling, slightly.

  
  


"I would hope so, Lucius...I would hate for anything to happen to your lovely son..."

  
  


"It is as you ordered, lord." Bowing deeply, Lucius Malfoy's eyes sought only the stone of the floor. The ruby-blood eyes of his lord and master were to fearsome for even his cold heart.

  
  


"Then you shall be rewarded." Hissing, syllabic...suspicious. The Dark Lord doubted his servant's words, and made it clear. There was a hush in the dark hall, no one spoke. Lucius remained on one knee, not foolish enough to rise before given leave to. His heart pounded in his chest, roaring in his ears, blocking out the silence that engulfed the servants of the dark. 

  
  


"Thank you my lord." Words forced into the gaping silence, tossed into it's cavernous maw. 

  
  


"May I ask how you did it?" Casually tossed, but deadly as a dagger.

  
  


"Bloodsnake, my lord." And here Lucius' words caught in his throat. His eyes flicked upwards on their own accord, not oblivious to the displeasure in his lord's stance. "Untraceable..."

  
  


"And with no promise of completion." Clipped and cold, Lucius knew he had made a mistake. He had known as soon as he had returned. On thinking back, he had a hundred other methods, all more sure then the last. But he had acted, and had no choice but to stand behind his actions.

  
  


"It will not fail, my lord." Quick to offer assurances. Much was at stake. He had been stupid, confident. Why had he thought the Dark Lord would make allowances for him? He was a devoted servant yes, but that meant nothing. Grey eyes slid to the side, falling on the huddled and beaten body of the first servant to return to the dark. No, devoted service meant nothing...

  
  


"That is yet to be seen." Easing himself back, the Dark Lord appeared unconcerned. "We shall wait, Lucius, and see if your little plan comes to fruition. If not, you know the price."

  
  


"Yes lord." What little color tinged Lucius' face faded. He had seen, in graphic detail, the Dark Lord's punishments. The thought that he would receive one such...bile rose in his throat, forced quickly down. He could not appear afraid. He must be confident, sure of his actions. He would not allow that to happen. He would give himself over to the blood sport of the Dark Lord, rather then that.

  
  


"You are dismissed, Lucius." A wave of a long, white hand. The audience was over, and it seemed he was safe for the moment. In the coming days however...

  
  


"Thank you my lord." Lucius rose, some warmth flooding back into him. He would have time. He would make arrangements. Even if his plan did fail...

  
  


"And send your son to me." Again, so casual as to seem congenial, polite. Lucius froze, heart stopping dead in his chest as though seized.

  
  


"My lord?" Polite inquisitiveness, nothing more. 

  
  


"For...safe keeping." Sadism twisting the words, turning tem to a gross parody. 

  
  


"Yes my lord." 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	5. Neville

  
  
  
  
  
  


Dedication: For Tara, for waiting oh so patiently! I swear, I'll get to Peter!

  
  


Author's Note: Um...short. Anything more would have been dragging this out and it wouldn't have worked.

  
  


End of All Hope

Neville

  
  
  
  


There are those who are born to be leaders, and those who are born to be followers. And there are those who exist only to be used by those more powerful then themselves. They are the small ones, the untalented ones. They are the ones that are taken for granted...

  
  


//Unassuming.// The word rang round and round Neville's head. He didn't quite understand his role in all of this madness. His skills would be utilized? But he had no skills, and professor Snape had said as much. But he was needed.

  
  


It was difficult, to be the quiet one. The small one. The sad one. He had resigned himself long ago to his fate. And now he was told that those very qualities would be his salvation. //They're going to use me.// It was a cold and naked thought, and one he did not relish. He would be used. He was a pawn. That was what they really meant, wasn't it? His talent was his lack thereof.

  
  


He would be a spy, or some such. A dupe. But what else could he do? It was more recognition then he would receive elsewhere.

  
  


Alone, he curled into himself. The dorm was nearly empty. No one saw him, and no one cared. It had been strange and silent since Harry's death. That was when it truly changed. That was when the darkness had fallen over everything. Losing Dumbledore had been bad, but somehow Harry's loss had hit them harder. Why, Neville did not know. Perhaps because Dumbledore simply disappeared. They had not looked upon his lifeless body. They had not seen the paleness, the stiffness that slowly slid over his features...

  
  


Neville shuddered. He could not keep the images out of his mind. True, it had been months past, but it would not sleep. He was sensitive. His grandmother had always said so. Sensitive was another word for weak. That was what it all came down to. He was weak.

  
  


//I can't do this.// He had no idea what they would ask of him, but he knew he would not be able to deliver. He would fail, and he would let them all down. Why did they think he could perform? They knew him. They had watched him, watched him grow and learn. And they had seen him fumble, and fall. He had not changed any. 

  
  


//Canon fodder.// He had read the term, and knew it applied here. He was prime material for suicide missions and things of that nature. But what did he expect? He had never had any great expectations for himself. But this...

  
  


//What does it matter?// It never had, and it never would. He knew he was insignificant. What would his death matter? And if he was able to do any good...

  
  


//I'm not a soldier. I'm not anything.// He buried his head n his knees, wishing he could make himself so small he could disappear. But he couldn't. He could only wish himself. He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or not. He had the feeling he would cry, soon.

  
  


//We aren't all going to make it.// There had been loss, and there would be more. //That's what war does. It takes. It kills.// Would he make it? He didn't know. Thoughts, harsh and painful, would not rest. 

  
  


It would be a long night.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~

  
  
  
  



	6. Peter

  
  
  
  
  
  


Dedication: For Tara...here you go, the chapter you've been waiting for!

  
  


Author's Note: I am full of good food and humor. All is well in the world today. I have three days off of work, and I'm going to catch the midnight showing of Die Hard this Friday. To celebrate, I'm catching up on my fics.

  
  
  
  


End of All Hope

Peter 

  
  
  
  


Why are the followers, the workers, those who build the empires, always forgotten? Without them, nothing would ever be done. But they were ignored, insignificant, uncared for once their task was done. They were tossed aside, no longer needed. A tool whose purpose was done was cast to the side.

  
  


Peter had no illusions. Not anymore. They had all been broken, along with his will. He had once believed himself to be needed, important. Those thoughts were dead, cast aside much as he himself had been.

  
  


How long had it been, since they called upon him? How long since they sought him out, enlisted his aide? He was nothing. Forgotten. They didn't even know his name. Where would they be, without him? Hadn't it been he who raised their lord and master back to strength? He had toiled and sacrificed, and they had done nothing. Waited, watched, sat in their safe palaces, lying to the world until the time was right. They rode on the blood, sweat and tears that Peter had shed.

  
  


They say that the broken are useless, but that is not true. The broken, once mended, can be quite dangerous. Peter had cultivated his resentment, nurturing it until it grew to full blossomed hatred. He carried it with him, cared for it as he would a child. It was the only thing he was certain of. They had used him. 

  
  


He had spent his life being used, but not like this. Those he harkened to before had never abandoned him quite like this. He had been a fool. He had made a grave mistake, and he was paying tenfold for it now. 

  
  


Even the broken can break.

  
  


No one took any note of him. They did not see when he gathered is meager belongings together. They did not see when he slipped off into the night. They didn't see when he removed the Mark that would allow their lord to find him. He had lost one arm already, what was one more?

  
  


Peter was used to pain. And he knew what to do, to stop the bleeding. He could ignore it, push it aside as he made his way across the countryside. He spent his life in misery, in hatred. The focus of those feelings just shifted. From vengeance to vengeance he flittered, like some twisted gift giver. 

  
  


They had used him. He hated being used. Why did no one ever take him for what he was? Why was he seen as only a tool, a means to an end. They had filled him with promises, strung him along, and never followed through. And what could he do?

  
  


That was their mistake. It is far, *far* better to be underestimated. Low expectations can always be caught by surprise. Peter doubted a single member of the Dark Lords forces saw him as a threat. They forgot he was a wizard, and a powerful one. Powerful enough, in his own mind. He had a wand, and a will. And a burning drive inside of him. 

  
  


Even a dog that is beaten will eventually snap at it's master. Peter would be ignored no longer. They would see him for what he truly was, and they would learn their lesson the hard way. He was not to be taken lightly. To promise him power, glory, and give him nothing but obscurity. 

  
  


He knew their secrets. He knew things he probably shouldn't know. Things they had thought hidden from the likes of him. And he would deliver that information right into the hands of those who desired it most...

  
  


Voldemort *would* pay.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~


	7. Sirius

  
  
  
  
  
  


Dedication: To Tara. Look, I did it!

  
  


Author's Note: This *should* be the last of the itty-bitty chapters. Everything's set up now, it's time for the action to start. :-) 

  
  
  
  


Sirius

  
  


They were all idiots. Each and every one of them. Why didn't they see it? Snape was going to get them all killed. An army. A fucking army. And they, stupid sheep that they were, would follow blindly. Lambs to the slaughter, all of them.

  
  


He was the only amongst them who had any sense left. Despite all that had happened, it was *him* who retained a shred of sanity. How ironic. How very fucking ironic.

  
  


Down the hall, to his room. The door slammed. He had half a mind to throw a fit. It would make him feel better. He had done it many times, behind his closed door. Yelled and screamed and beat his fists and feet against whatever surface lent itself to him.

  
  


But now was not the time. He was enraged beyond words. How could they have given themselves over so easily?

  
  


But he knew. His mind knew, deep in places he hated to go, that it was all they had. The Gryffindor in him refused to give up. He would not lay down and die, a beaten dog. 

  
  


But to follow Snape...the bastard! The self serving, know it all, pain in the arse bastard! To follow him, to serve under him, it irked him.

  
  


Train. Train who? Train what? Battle magics. As if he were the only one capable! But, out of all they had, he supposed he was.

  
  


//I'm not a fucking teacher!// He sank down in a chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. He was prone to fits of anger, now.

  
  


//Damn it!//

  
  


They didn't understand. They weren't beat because of Harry's death. Not directly. They were beaten because of what it meant, because of the toll it had taken on all of them. Not to mention Dumbledore...

  
  


But they didn't see. Or they wouldn't admit. Snape didn't care, he never had. Just another casualty, to him. And Moony had defended him. Traitor. 

  
  


//Why?// Sirius laid his head down on his desk. Why had Moony stood up for him like that? They were the only ones left, really. The only ones that mattered. He should stand by him. It was What Was Done.

  
  


But no. No, he had supported Snape. Snape. They were all going to die.

  
  


//Fine. I'll play his little game. I'll play the happy little soldier.// But he didn't have to like it. And he wouldn't. He'd hate every minute of it. Oh, but how he looked forward to seeing the greasy git fail. They'd all see who had been right.

  
  


But they never listened. He knew what they thought about him. That he was mad. That he was missing a few quills in his case. Azkaban rattled him. He never recovered. And now, losing Harry....he was useless.

  
  


They didn't know anything. He was fine. He was thinking clearly, more clearly then anyone else.

  
  


Using children. What sort of sick fuck used children? Only one. Sirius didn't trust him. How could anyone? He served Voldemort, and people like that...

  
  


//He's not on our side. He's setting us up. The tide's turned again, and he's gone back to his master.// They always did. Once a snake, always a snake. //

  
  


And when, exactly, was this training supposed to start? And would his ranks be full of children? Was he supposed to send children off to die? *He* had a heart. Not that they'd care.

  
  


War. What did they know about war? They were far removed from the last. But he remembered. He had relived it, for twelve years. Each and every atrocity played over in his mind, again and again. He couldn't shake them, couldn't let go. He was the only one who *understood*.

  
  


They were going to die.

  
  


And none of them cared.

  
  
  
  


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	8. A Punishment

Warning: Scenes of torture and mutilation. You have been warned.

Author's Note: This isn't as dark as I had intended it to be, but graphic description would have severely hindered the flow of the story.

****

A Punishment

Defeat. A painful thing, truly. Most especially for those who have never before experienced it. Malfoys did not lose. They did not lose, they did not surrender. But Lucius was overconfident, over eager, and thought too little beyond the next few minutes.

"You have disappointed me." The Dark Lord was calm, voice slow and easy. Lucius was not fooled. He remained on bended knee before the red-eyed lord, eyes cast in shame to the floor.

"I am so sorry my lord…" His voice was breathy, penitent.

"You are not." Voldemort spoke with easy grace. "But you will be."

Those words held a foreboding that went straight to Lucius' core. He would be punished. 

"My lord, please…" He had to speak. He had to make an attempt, not for himself but…

"Silence. Stand among your brothers Lucius." Pale white hand waved in dismissal. Lucius' throat closed, his stomach in icy weight inside of his body. A second chance…a third…just one more, he needed it so badly, Voldemort could not do this… 

"Bring in the boy."

A hand on Lucius' arm, to steady him. Hold him back. He didn't bother to look to see who it was, he didn't care. He swallowed hard, throat thick and heart beating in his chest as a caged bird is wont to do. 

He could not watch. But he would die if he didn't…

~~~

Draco was brought before the dark lord, quiet and calm, unknowing of what would transpire. Those gathered knew, and watched on with a hungry intensity. They had waited for years to see the great Malfoys brought to their knees.

'Your father has displeased me." Was Voldemort's only explanation, but none other was needed. Grey eyes widened in surprise, and then fear. The words had but a moment to register, before the pain curse was cast. His small body crumpled, a scream torn from his lips. The Death Eaters chuckled, the one holding Lucius tightening his grip.

The Dark Lord was quite displeased.

"Macnair…" He summoned the burly man forth. "I believe you are more suited this task then I. Enjoy."

Ah, but Walden Macnair was a special sort. A cruel brute of a man with no joy other then blood sport. Thick hands grabbed Draco about the throat, lifting him. He whimpered, struggling against the man who was twice his size.

Macnair enjoyed himself quite thoroughly. Bones were broken. They made such a lovely sound when snapped in two. Skin was shorn away, leaving bare the red sinew of muscle. Fingernails torn out, one by one in rapid succession. Flesh lacerated, burnt and beaten, until the boy was nothing more then a mass of blood and bone that moved no more.

"Enough." Slim, pale hand moved once more in dismissal. Macnair returned to his place, blood on his hands on clothes, and smile on his face.

There was the sound of light laughter from the assembled. A few turned to Lucius, pleased to see his drawn and tortured face. He had failed the Dark Lord, and he deserved it. His brat as well. They were glad to be rid of the child, he was nothing but a headache to them. Precocious and spoiled, jaunting about as though he were heir to the Dark Lords throne.

No longer.

Voldemort smiled, thin lips drawn back from pointed teeth. "Take it away."

The body was removed. They paid little attention, nothing could have survived. They would toss it for the wild dogs, leave it as near their enemies as possible. Let them be reminded of what lay in store for them. 

~~~~~~~

The body was nearly frozen when it was found. A regular patrol, to strengthen the wards of defense stumbled upon it half buried in the snow. Confusion followed. Blood was frozen over the boy's face, what clothes remained on his body, the snow about him. But miracle of all miracles…he was alive.

Barely.

They carried him back to the school, carefully. If he was to be saved, it would be now. It was obvious the child's back had been broken. Other injuries could not bear commenting upon. But surely if he could survive all of this, he would survive healing.

It was in their minds a bright spot in such a bleak time. There was hope that life could flourish, even in the face of such unfavorable odds. And now, when so little seemed hopeful, a sign such as this was needed. For what else could it be, rather then an omen of good fortune? Wizards were not superstitious folk, but they understood powers that were greater then them.

Frozen solid, they delivered him to the infirmary. The nurse was summoned, and she in turned summoned those she knew skilled in the healing arts. Regardless of what need be done, the boy would survive.


	9. Severus and Remus

Author's Note: An update! I amaze myself. I was having a lot of trouble with this but a little bit of brainstorming with my friend Gryff helped quite a bit, actually. So here we go!

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Severus and Remus

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"How bad is it?"

Word of the 'incident' had spread rapidly. Severus looked up, blank eyes warming only slightly in recognition. 

"Quite bad." Word's clipped and brusque. 

"How so?"

Damn the werewolf's persistence. Papers set aside, eyes narrowed in agitation. Severus was not enjoying the inquisition.

"His spine is broken. He will live, however."

"Good."

A moment of tense silence. Severus returned his attention to his papers, not one to fill the silence with needless chatter. 

"What happened?"

"I imagine that much would be rather obvious, Lupin." He was not in the mood for this discussion, nor the current company. There was far too much to be done, and far to little time to do it in.

Lupin had gone soft in the years between wars, or so it seemed. He had grown nervous and complacent, a tired old man with no inclination to battle. He was near useless it appeared, fit for nothing more then to prattle on while others worked. But at least his prattle was relevant.

"Then why did it happen, Severus? The Malfoy's are loyal."

"The Dark Lord is a clever man, Lupin. Lucius is useful. He has served long and well. He has a history of trickery and power behind him. Draco is young, as yet untested. And Lucius loves him. Why break a perfectly good tool, when you can break a useless one with far more effect?"

"You mean to tell me that this happened to *punish* Lucius?"

"Yes." It had happened before. Severus had borne witness to many such occurrences in his time serving the Dark Lord. Though what Lucius had done to warrant such an extreme punishment was beyond him.

"That's abhorrent…"

"That is the Dark Lord. Why are you here?" Lupin could get this information from others.

"Things aren't going well, Severus."

"In what sense do you mean?"

"Sirius."

Severus did not respond. The brute refused to listen, refused to do as he was told. He was a wild card, and he made Severus nervous.

"What of him?"

"He's becoming difficult. You…you need to speak with him. You need to end this."

"Now is not the time." They were in the middle of war. There was no time to pause for personal battles or grudges. "It will be dealt with afterwards."

"It can't wait. You need make peace with him now." Lupin's voice was pleading and earnest. 

"I haven't the time."

"He won't follow you. Not the way things are now."

"As it stands, I do not care. As long as he does not stand in my way, he may do as he will."

"You know him, Severus." Lupin took step forward, frowning. "He's going to cause trouble. You can't let this go."

"It will be dealt with." When the opportunity presented itself. He could not go out of his way to appease the man. There were things that demanded his attention. "Have you anything else you feel needs to take up my time?"

"Us."

"What of us?" 

"Exactly."

Severus glanced up, eyes unreadable. Lupin. The emotional one. The needy one. It was evident in his eyes, even before they had made love. "We have discussed this."

"Not really."

"I told you when this began, I made no promises that I would feel anything for you." 

"I know…"

"And yet you wish to argue your case." Black eyes glittering, lips set in a thin line.

"We're lovers, Severus. We're not enemies. You're distant, when we make love, and you…"

"I am in the middle of a war!" Was the man daft? "I have no time to warm my heart to you, Lupin, be content with what you have."

"You said yourself you doubt we're going to make it."

"And you said we were."

"I said *you* were."

Silence followed. Severus was never one for feelings or emotions. They confused the mind, they got in the way of what was right. They followed no rhyme or reason and therefore were dangerous. Feelings were to be dealt with when a man did not need his wits about him.

"Now is not the time."

"That's your answer for everything." Lupin's voice quiet. "When is it time?"

"When this is over."

"And if we're dead?"

"Then that is the way it goes Lupin." Eyes back to the assorted papers. 

"I love you, Severus."

"I am well aware of that Lupin." And that would make a difference? Love was a foolish emotion that had to place in the scheme of things. 

"You don't care."

"It affects nothing." Sighing, Severus met Lupin's eyes again. "Unlike you, I do not have the time for idle emotions. Leave me be."

"I'll see you tonight?"

"We share the same room, do we not?"

Lupin nodded, and left Severus in peace. There would be time to deal with it later…

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End file.
